One More Chance
by creepy-kreme
Summary: Forced to face the demons of yesterday, Sasuke finds himself choosing between the past and the future, between holding on and letting go. Can love truly rewrite the past? SasuNaru. Yaoi. Rated M. AU.
1. Chapter 1 - Sasuke

**One More Chance**

**By: Creepy-kreme**

A/N: To those of you who have read the story before, I know you are surprised. Not just surprised, but overtly and superbly surprised. This is originally an ItaSakuSasu story. The fact that I made this into a SasuNaru made vast changes regarding the plot. As I have said before, I got so hooked in BL that I cannot write a straight pairing anymore. I can't even stand reading a Sakura-centric fic whereas before, I was so devoted to it. I am deeply saddened about this outcome but I know that I can't do anything about it, so I'll just let it be. What's done is done. I just hope you guys support me all throughout these changes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

I know I haven't updated for a while. But I do not want to lay all my excuses to you. You have suffered enough.

Not beta'd.

* * *

**-one-**

_Are you okay?_

Yeah. Good question. Am I okay?

This is one of the hardest questions that I have ever asked myself as I ogle hard at my own reflection, tracing my chin with my thumb and forefinger. I can barely tell who I'm really staring at anymore. The person in front of me hasn't shaved for days. His eye bags are getting bigger from sleep deprivation and stress. I can see the round darkening perfectly under the harsh light of the room making it stand out against the pale skin even more. That vibrant black hair had now gone longer, still looking unkempt but somehow passing off as different. Even those pair of onyx eyes has lost the youthful glow it once had, the fire in those eyes that can scorch even the coldest of ice...

Who is this person in front of me? He looks older, more mature. He seems so different... so changed, that it left me wondering if there is still even a little bit of my old self left inside of that person staring back at me. My person six years ago is a past my current 29-year old self never wanted to go back into. Whenever I do, it seems dim, seemingly almost forgotten.

_Are you okay?_ is an impossible question right now.

As I step into the tub, I recall what Karin asked me the other day.

"_Do you believe in soul mates?"_

_Do I?_ I never did answer. I wasn't able to. She didn't let me. She just left it like that and kissed me instead, saying that I am her soul mate. Now that I have a chance to answer that myself, I guess mostly, I'm not sure. A part of me wants to believe that there is a person out there in the world that was made exactly for you. And this person's hands fit perfectly into your own, and you can almost swear that the freckles that fall down their back spell out your name if you look at it in just the right light. But the other half of me understands that even if there was such thing as soul mates, they wouldn't be the ones you end up with. They would be the broken hearts and lessons learned. They would be the shooting stars of love. Because when I think about it, having someone made especially for you is a hell of a lot of pressure. What if the _you_ they were made for, isn't the _you_ that you are now? What happens then?

Soul mates are for dreamers. And I don't think I will ever dream like one again.

A groan left my lips as I lean my back gently at the edge of the curve of the cold tub. I shiver like a pathetic weakling I am (not) and I think I can hear my male ego berating vociferously in my head that I shivered at only that but I can't find it in me to care. God, I'm really getting old. I just know that I'm going to end up like Mr. Scrooge. Or worse.

I push my head back and close my eyes, and I think I was already starting to drift off when Karin's voice once again involuntarily fills my mind.

* * *

"_Tell me, have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with?"_

Like her first question, that too, I wasn't able to answer. The words, "Well, I did. And there's one word to describe it. Stupid." was at the tip of my tongue, but I wasn't about to tell her that. I'm not ready to tell her just yet.

When it seems like I will not get the relaxation I was aiming for, I reflexively reach for the remote at the top of the stand next to the tub. I like listening to music. It loosens me up, soothes my aching body, and let us pretend for a while that somebody cares about that little information. I press play, not knowing and caring what song will uncover because I was past the point of really not caring anymore, and well, to say that I am knocked for six is an understatement. Waters spring outside the tub like sprinklers were accidentally turned on as I jolt from my cosy position.

I swallow hard. Tears sting at the corner of my eyes.

Because it's Naruto's voice –a voice I thought I'd never hear again– singing faintly in the background with that perfect angelic voice of his. And I can't make myself press stop.

Yes. I, Uchiha Sasuke, am gay. Or bisexual, at the very least, as Naruto liked to put it.

Call me bitter, but I can now come clean and acknowledge the fact that I haven't gotten over him yet. I can still remember him clearly like it was just yesterday. Maybe the saying "_First love never dies_" isn't just an idiom after all. Because I can still see his eyes; feel his lips as it presses against mine, feel how soft his hair is as I run my fingers through it. His odd-feminine legs, how it feels when they wrap around me, how one second he's this enticing, shy, almost timid Naruto and become a wild fox the next as he inch towards mine. I can still catch a glimpse of him every time my eyes were closed. Every contour, every line, every crease. Even the smallest of things, I can recall. Vividly.

I love the way he looks at me, like he trusts me and believes in me completely. I love the way his touch sends tingle to my skin whenever our skin meets. I love how he responds to my every touch; he's that predictable, you know? I never imagined myself deserving such a wonderful person in my life. He's handsome, beautiful even, though not as beautiful as the girls I used to have one-night stand with, not as sexy and voluptuous as those models on the ramp flirting with me, however, there's something about him that makes him stand out. Perhaps it's the way his eyes twinkle or his eyes, to be exact, or the way he walks, or the way he talks, or how he laughs, or how childish he can act sometimes, I don't know. All I know is that I've fallen for him then, hard and right on the spot and there's no way stopping it.

So, is it wrong if I keep on asking what went wrong? Where did it go wrong? I want to know.

I didn't mean for it to end like that, because our relationship didn't really end. It just... stopped.

* * *

As I replay the questions in my head trying to find a way out, so far, it remained unanswered. I keep on telling myself, not now, not yet. If I knew, what would I feel? Worse, do I really want to know? Yes, I am longing for the answers _so badly_ I can feel it in my veins. But no, it feels like I'm not ready to find out just yet. Because sometimes, looking for answers only leads to more questions, and sometimes, you're better off not knowing.

I feel spellbound, almost trapped. And thus, I had been avoiding the question ever since. I don't know whether I know the answer to those questions or not, but I made myself believe that I don't, for my sanity's sake, because the only way to understand how everything went wrong is to go back to the beginning. And I'm not ready for that, too.

God damn it, Uchiha Sasuke! You are such a coward.

I'd spend about an hour, my room darkening around me, and its times like that that I question my own sanity, what with the countless arrays of questions that seem to pop out somewhere, a somewhere I could not exactly pinpoint makes me go crazy, just wondering what the hell happened to make me so unsure of who I even was. Because who you are is supposed to be the easiest question in the world to answer, right?

Only for me it hadn't been easy for a very long time.

* * *

There used to be days that I thought I was okay or at least that I was going to be. We'd be hanging out somewhere and everything would just fit right and I would think 'it will be okay if it can just be like this forever' but of course nothing can ever stay just how it is forever._**(1)**_

I can still remember the day Neji proposed to Naruto. It was 2 years after they got back together. Oh sorry, correction. It was 2 years after _I_ vanished from their love story. He looked so happy then. But was he really? Or was he just deceiving everyone that he was and try to tear down the walls that I carefully built for him? A mouth can tell a million lies. A mind could deceive a million hearts. But the eyes will and always will tell the truth. As I stared into those eyes, those cobalt eyes that I fell in love with, I can see without a doubt that he is not. Even when he smiles, even when he laughs, I can see it in his eyes, because his eyes were always honest. Deep inside, he wants to cry. Deep inside, I can hear him pleading, begging, _"ask me to stay"_.

At the end of the party, I told him I was happy for him. That's just the saddest lie.

I can't love him, or so that's what I've been telling myself for the past fifteen years. We were fifteen when Neji asked him out. And that was the day when he was instantaneously hauled out of my reach just as the thought of going near him ever exist.

Seeing something that kills you, and having to act like you're fine is hell of a lot harder than I thought.

As I watch Neji in front of me, waiting for his groom to arrive as Naruto, _my Naruto_, walk down that aisle wearing the clothes I knew the dobe picked carefully, I felt that if I called out his name then, he would turn around and come back to me. But I can't do that. Not to Neji. Not to my family. Especially not to Naruto.

God knows he deserve so much more.

* * *

I glare at the clock's reflection who glares 8:06am back at me. Damn, I'm late.

_Again._

My mind wandered a bit further again today. But it's okay; I am my own boss after all. I finally had the courage to press the stop and get out of the tub, although Naruto's voice is still ringing loudly in my head. I give myself a mental pat on the back as I make my way to my walk-in closet to get dressed. Trousers first, then shirt, tuck in, close the buttons, pick a vest, dress in, pick a tie, tie it, choose a pair of shoes, put it on, left first then right, pick a coat. It's monotonous, and it seems like a never-ending cycle.

_Same old, same old_.

I stop shortly in front of the window. I feel lost then. Broken, even, as I thought just how lonely I really feel. For so long, I had been lying to everyone, even to myself that I am not. For that long, I started to believe my own lie. Reality, once more, flooded back in. No one ever asked me what it feels like to be me. Every morning, I get up and put on a fake smile. But what if one morning, I didn't? Would anyone notice? I wonder if anyone cares.

As I got into the limousine parked in front of my hotel, the sound of the engine relaxes me. It always does. Don't ask me why. I, myself do not know either. I prop my elbow on the handle of the car door and cross my left leg over the other as I stare right through the window. And I wonder how many people I ran past is just as broken as me.

I wanted to rewrite the past. I wanted to go back, hold him close and never let go. I regret letting him go, to stop fighting for him just as he stopped fighting for me. Every passing day without him in my arms is only a constant reminder that I was the one who screwed things up, and I beat myself up for it after that. Naruto deserve someone who can introduce him to their parents, who can actually take him out on a date, kiss him out in the public where they can hold hands and whisper to each other those three words Naruto always wanted to hear, uncaring what everyone around them are thinking. Neji can do that. Neji can make him happy. I am sure he will. I just _know_ that.

But can you blame me if I feel so wasted? Can you blame me if my insecurities grow every second as I speak? Can you blame me if I still want to tell him I love him and wrap my arms around him, wake up every morning with him by my side? Was it too late now to ask for a second chance?

If I were to be true to myself, I don't really want to let him go. Breaking up with him is like having the worst nightmare, after having the best dream.

But I chose to let him go. And it destroyed me.

* * *

These vicious thoughts were ended by the sudden unlocking of the door. I'm at the front of the building already. Damn, I lost track of time again. I really should stop thinking about what went wrong. I had chosen between the past and the future, between holding on and letting go. But letting go once again would make me lose it and I doubt if I can ever feel normal again.

Can love truly rewrite the past? For the first time in years, I want to prove myself right again. I want to make things right, to correct the things that I had done wrong. I want to apologize to him, to tell him that I still love him. I have so many things to say. Even if he won't believe me, even if he would never believe me, I just want to tell him, explain to him why I let him go. I want to make him understand. I want to tell him that I fell in love with him when we were together, then fell deeper in love with him in the years we were apart.

I just need a second chance, one last chance.

_Just one more chance._

_Tbc. (?)_

(1) Take note of that quote for the next chapter.

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2 - Naruto

**One More Chance**

**By: Creepy-kreme**

A/N: I wasn't really planning on continuing this, trust me. But I saw it somewhere in my files and I had the sudden urge to write it again. I'm not sure about the updates here and to the others, though. But I'm going to try. It kills me not to finish the stories that has been eating me up and living inside my head for so long.

P.S. Yes, Master and Love Bus are still on hiatus. Sorry.

I hope you still remember me, though.

Un-beta'd.

* * *

**-two-**

_Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a boy and __it all began on the summer of 1994. The first time they met each other was when they were nine._ _He was this snobby little kid who doesn't believe in fairy tales while he was this silly little boy who believes in happy endings. They sat on the swing placed in their garden, their golden and dark hair shimmering under the setting sun as they stared into the horizon, and he knew from then on that __his laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering._

_Are you okay?_

Yeah. Good question. Am I okay?

There's so much pain that question that I can't even comprehend where to begin. It's been so long since I felt even a tad bit of normality in my life that I don't know even know what okay feels like. How sad is that?

So I just nod my head and smile.

That's what I like about gestures. You can happily wave at someone while thinking that they could just go fuck themselves and die.

Besides, I don't have to tell them about every single thing that's going on in my personal life. In, fact, I don't have to tell them about anything that's going on in my personal life.

That's why they call it personal.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't always this melancholic. There used to be days that I thought I was okay or at least that I was going to be. But I don't think I will ever be.

I glare at my shaking hands. "Shit," I mutter at them.

"Did you actually say shit, Naruto?" a bulky dark haired boy asks way too cheerfully to me as he sits down beside me.

I turn my glare at him. "Kiba, do me a favor and die."

He clutches his chest, like the pathetic kid he was, _is_. "You told me to die?" he asks in fake shock. "Me, your best friend? I'm so... oh it hurts," I turn away just in time so that his head won't fall against my shoulders and hit the wall instead.

"What do you want?"

"Sheesh, you're so moody. I don't even know why I put up with you." He keeps on shifting for a while, looking for the most comfortable position, or what seems the most comfortable on hard, carpeted floor, I guess.

"Go away then."

Kiba huffs and scrunch his nose in answer. "Don't you want to know what I found first before shooing me?"

"I already know what you found." I say as I stand up, walking over towards the amplifier, fixing the cords and attaching it to the guitar. "You found me in a really bad mood. Now, go."

He doesn't.

Instead, I heard my name. "Naruto," And he says it in a voice so weak and oh so painful that I can't help but turn around to look at him. My heart lurch as I stare into his eyes. Gone were the bright and breezy –the _humor_– in them. All I can see is pity. I regret turning around.

And I really, really wish I hadn't.

* * *

Tell me, have you ever been in love? The kind of sickening one wherein you'd want to spend your whole life just staring at that person's eyes and you would know that it's true when he gives you a piece of your soul, that you never knew was missing...

Horrible isn't it?

It makes you so vulnerable that it's amazing, if not ridiculous, how one moment you are so completely blissfully happy and then in the next one, everything is falling apart. You are out there, all alone wondering what the hell just happened and how come you are in the middle of this.

There is no answer to that question, unfortunately. Don't even try it. It's just a waste of time, trust me. I've already wasted mine. Love is the most confusing thing in the world. No matter how much I spend my life trying to make some sense out of the phrase "everything happens for a reason" – and for a while, I think I figured what it was, _to piss me off _– I realized, sometimes things happen.

No reason.

No explanation.

They. Just. Happen.

Nobody asks your permission for them to take place. Nobody offers you an alternative. Some things just turn out this way. I guess we will never learn to accept them, to respect them, to believe they are for the best, because probably, they are not. I am even sure they are not for the best _at all_. I mean, how can it be possible that something that drains you of your strength, of your emotions, of your _happiness_ – how come something like that can be for the _best_?

Yes, things like this change us. _I_ definitely did. But do they make us stronger? Do they make us better? A lot of people say they do. But I can't see it this way. I just can't.

It's like staring at a scar. It symbolizes that you have been hurt once, and healed.

I had been hurt.

But have I healed?

Sometimes, strength is nothing more than how well we hide our pain. And some of us have become really good at this.

But it doesn't mean those people aren't hurt.

It doesn't mean they have moved on.

It doesn't mean they are as happy as we see it.

We are what we pretend to be. People see us as we want them to see us.

And I guess that's what happens. Love opens your chest and it opens up your heart. And it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You let people in and...

_They destroy you_.

* * *

I beat the drums with so much force, like what they usually do in rock concerts. I pound my sticks so hard that the sticks start to tear right into the layer like a ball ripping into a matador's cape.

The sound of my drums starts to beat the volume of the music in my ears. It is as if it is trying to drown away my pain, my fears, although, in a way, it does because this isn't just music. It's a brawl –a knock-down, drag-out far-for-all. I pound it. I strike it. I beat it. I stomp it. I hit it over and over again and ignite all my rage out onto the inanimate instrument.

When I finally come to a halt, my heart is pounding just as hard as how I pounded the drums a while ago. My sweat trickles along my face, going down along my neck and into the dark patterns adorning my shirt. It's so hard to breathe that I had to force the air into my lungs. My delirious rampage just now left me feeling a little lax. Almost bare, nearing empty.

After a few minutes of voidance and blankness, what I just did finally dawn to me. I stare at the few gaping holes in the instrument, some of its layers totally ripped apart. My gaze falls into my hands that are still clutching the remnants of what supposed to be brand new drum sticks.

When Shikamaru and Sai come over to check out what I've done, probably because of all the noise I made, they let out a small whistle.

When Hinata sees it, she gasps and ducks behind Shino for cover.

Lee makes the sign of the cross with his fingers, like what people do in the movies when they're trying to ward off vampires.

But Kiba just grins at me, his usual silly grin, but I can see it in his eyes that he isn't really happy, and say, "Feel better now?"

"_Sasuke's back."_

_...he's back._

_.._

_._

_Sasuke._

And I have to admit, somehow –I do.

* * *

_Tbc._

I know the story is a little confusing, but please bear with me. It'll get better soon.

Oh, and I just want you all to know that from now on, the POVs each chapter switches from Sasuke to Naruto. I did that just now. I don't know if I'll be able to be consistent with it, but it seems really cool to be in one head after another, and it really emphasizes how different these two people think. Although I think that they're both just being stupid.

Please review lovelies.

See you next update.

* * *

P.S. I finished half of this story years ago. A lot of things happened in my life and I don't think I will ever write the same way again. But I stumbled upon this somehow, call it fate, destiny, whatever, but I feel like myself for a second. Not normal. But I just want to write again, over and over. I have this itch that I needed to scratch. I'm going through a rough time, I have been going through a rough time for a long time now, and I would really appreciate it if you guys just somehow be with me, just for a little while, and even just through your messages. I apologize in advance if a little of myself shows in my writing. But thank you for reading it. Even though I cannot show how messed up I am inside, at least someone appreciates it beyond the borders of my own wall.


End file.
